Sisters and Friends
by metameric1
Summary: Daria's moved on, and Quinn has reexamined who she is and where she's going. She doesn't like what she sees, and is determined to make some changes...
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: this story is set in the same AU that Mothers and Daughters happens in. This Quinn-centric thread picks up the summer after Quinn graduates from Lawndale High, after she ages out of the most popular girl in school position. She had already begun examining her own life as Daria prepared to leave for College, and the two have become closer. The crisis triggered by the Daria/Trent relationship has brought the sisters even closer together.**_

_**This isn't exactly a sequel, more of a companion project to Mothers and Daughters. In terms of character development, this is a very different Quinn from the series, but one that showed some signs of emergence in the last show episodes. This is an older and wiser QM.**_

_**-M1**_

_**Oops, almost forgot the disclaimer. Daria and associated characters are the property of**__ MTV and Viacom, or whomever has acquired ownership. This story is fanfiction and written for entertainment purposes only and no money or any other goods have been exchanged._

**Sisters and Friends**

_Chapter 1_

_**Coming Around**_

_Miss Popularity_ was all alone.

Or at least, it felt that way to Quinn.

Sure, she had escaped high school, her Junior and Senior years having shown a positive academic trend on her transcript. Yes, she probably would have been able to easily get into the same school that Stacy and Sandi were attending in the fall, in California. A party school, wasting their parent's money. It would be a minor miracle if those two made it through the first year without flunking out.

Still, it felt as though her life had taken a sudden downturn. It would be nice to be able to turn to someone, a real friend; something she had never learned how to make or even recognize. With her sister Daria in Boston, there was no one.

_Why the hell had she not seen all this coming? She was smarter than that._

_Daria had known that she wasn't stupid. Why had she wasted so much time trying to not be anything like her older sister?_

She glanced up at the homework written in the corner of the whiteboard, making sure she hadn't missed anything. She had dropped her paper on the instructor's table when she walked in; she had read the two chapters in the text. Looking around, she noted the demeanor of the other students in the classroom; most of them looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but here, stuck in a nondescript institutional beige box at Lawndale Community College.

_A Survey of American Literature_ sounded like a reasonably interesting class when she enrolled; at the very least it would look like something other than fluff on her transcript when she started at Lawndale State in the fall. It would also give her something to talk to Daria about. She found that she was really enjoying the class, but the unhappy instructor expected effort from her students that she was apparently not getting from most of the class. She walked along the rows of desks, dropping graded papers as though they were unclean.

"In general, most of these papers were what I would consider below academic standards for a high school class, let alone a community college class," Ms. Tomlinson stated flatly. "I hope that most of you are enrolled in English 101 as well. Bear in mind that I do _not_ grade to a curve; only a couple of you submitted work that went beyond simply plagiarizing the Wikipedia summary of Poe and managed to present quite original work in an understandable fashion." She glanced at Quinn, who had shrunk in her seat.

_Now I know how Daria felt all the time._ She glanced at the note in the corner of the coversheet- _Excellent work, Ms. Morgendorffer. _She quickly slipped it into her binder pocket before anyone looked up to see her grade. She tried not to smile. _Daria could have done this in her sleep._ They had spoken about the assignment for only a few minutes; Daria simply suggested an approach to the paper, and Quinn had managed to knock it out in a couple of hours after they had hung up. It was pretty much all her own work, and dammit, she was proud of it. She had emailed Daria the text that evening and was gratified when she had gotten her sister's reply the next morning.

_Well Done. Change nothing._

She smiled quietly as she caught a flash of reddish-bronze on her finger as she wrote in her notebook. She loved the ring that Daria had given her at her graduation.

She loved her sister, and if that wasn't weird enough, she was_ becoming_ her sister.

* * *

_At least they have decent salads here, thanks to the Culinary Arts program._ She sat her tray down, tucking her backpack under the seat after checking that the floor was dry. Pulling out her E reader, she opened the Flannery O' Connor story that they were assigned.

"Why are you here?"

Startled, Quinn looked up. A dark haired girl, a little taller than herself, stood with her tray. "Is this a reserved table?" Quinn asked, a little annoyed by the interruption as well as the silliness, if in fact she had unknowingly blundered into an already claimed space.

"No, that's not what I meant," smiled the girl. "Mind if I sit here?"

Quinn nodded, and slid her tray over slightly. "You're in my Lit class, right?"

"Yeah, but I kind of sit in the back so I don't get called on. My name's Annie Nichols."

"Quinn Morgendorffer." She studied the girl's face; she had high, defined cheekbones, and dark, expressive eyes, possibly Eurasian. She was attractive, but aside from a bit of lip gloss, hadn't bothered with much makeup at all. "I don't remember seeing you around Lawndale High. Are you from Oakdale?"

"Guilty. I was just wondering why you're in the class. It doesn't seem like you're having any trouble; I'm thinking that Ms. Tomlinson made that comment about her grading just so that we wouldn't get heat from the rest of the class."

Quinn laughed. "You got a good grade too."

"Thought I'd keep the other brain company."

Quinn laughed. "Oh God, I really am turning into my sister."

"Is that a bad thing?" Annie asked, a slight tilt to her head.

"Not at all. She's in Boston; she's going to be a sophomore at Raft." Quinn smiled and pulled out her phone, opening her picture folder.

"_Raft?_ Damn, I wish I had the grades for that place. They have a killer Architecture school there." Annie looked closely at the images on Quinn's phone. "Cute. She looks like you. Who's the artsy chick next to her?"

"Her best friend, Jane. They have a place together; she's going to BFAC."

"_Boston Fine Arts College?_ Figures. She's got a great look, perfect for that scene."

"Jane follows nobody. Took me a while to figure out that she really is pretty cool too."

"Hey, who's the hot guy?"

Quinn smiled. "That would be my sister's live-in boyfriend, Trent. Jane's older brother."

"Damn. Your sister has everything except a talking cat."

"Not exactly," Quinn sighed.

"She has a talking dog? A dachshund, right?"

"What?" Quinn tried keeping a straight face.

"Talk to the weenie!" Annie smirked. "Come out and play!"

"Eew. No wonder you sit in the back," Quinn laughed. "Stay there."

Annie smiled. "Just a lot of talk and no action. No guys here worth the trouble."

"High standards?"

"A functioning brain, so yeah." Annie leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Most of the folks here are trying to catch up, but you seem to have it together. I'm here to knock off some of the core credits on the cheap so I can get more out of my tuition at Lawndale State in the fall."

"I guess I'm kind of doing the same, but I really need the English refresher. I had a really crappy instructor, except for a little while in my junior year when the teachers went on strike and my sister got drafted as the English instructor for my class."

Annie laughed. "Your sister sounds like a cool chick."

Quinn sat quietly for a long time, looking at the photo of Daria, Jane and Trent. Daria had found a true friend and a trusted confidant, and a man that loved her. She was smart, funny, iconoclastic. She was learning to open up to people, having gained the confidence to strike out into the world with her own compass. Despite the hard times she was dealing with, she was, for the most part, thriving. And when did she become such a beautiful woman? How had she not seen _that?_

Quinn envied her sister, but she was also happy for her.

"Yeah, she is."

* * *

"Hey sis, you okay?" Quinn asked carefully. She had plugged in the earbuds and pulled the little microphone capsule clear of her sweater.

"Not bad, considering," came the reply. "How did you do on that Poe paper?"

"One of only two A s in the class," Quinn smiled.

"It was a good paper, Quinn. I'd have wondered about your instructor if it hadn't gotten an A."

"Thank you, Daria," Quinn managed after a pause.

"So what's the next paper?"

_"A Good Man is Hard to Find."_

"Flannery O' Connor? How do you like her so far?"

"She really makes you think," smirked Quinn, after a moment. "Just like you." She smiled when she heard a rare laugh from Daria.

"Thanks for that, Sis. In hindsight, I can appreciate that."

"How's work going? You mentioned that your supervisor was pretty happy with your performance."

"I got a raise at work, and I'm starting to work on small features instead of just press releases.

"Daria! That's great!" Quinn smiled. _At least something besides Trent came her way_. "Sounds like fun, or at least challenging."

"It's a little weird, since I think I'm the youngest one there."

"You'll do great. They're lucky to have you."

There was a momentary pause.

"How are things going at home?" Daria asked carefully. "Is Dad okay?"

"He's worried about you. Why won't you take the money he tries to send you?"

"I did keep the money he gave me after your graduation."

"Because he tore up the check you sent him, trying to return it. At least you didn't mail the cash back." Quinn found herself stroking the ring that Daria had given her that day. The ring, and Jane and Trent's bracelet were two of the most important things she had. She wore the bracelet when she dressed up, but the ring never came off her finger. She didn't want to think about the money they had spent on her when they really couldn't afford it. _I'll make it up to you, Sis._

Quinn decided to change the subject. "How are Jane and Trent doing?"

"Jane's got a job running the printmaking lab at BFAC, and also has a few hours a week at a small boutique coffee café. At least we have a steady supply of coffee. Sometimes the flavors are kinda strange, but it's usually good."

"You guys are all caffeine junkies."

"Wait till you start in the fall, Sis. Anyway, Trent's doing well at work, and has about a dozen private guitar students. He's starting to write some really good material, and he's gotten positive responses when he tries busking."

"Still going strong?"

You could hear Daria smile. "Oh yeah," came the reply, without hesitation. "Things are still tight as hell, but without him Jane and I would be under water. At least I know I have a few people that I can count on."

"Wish I could say the same. I thought I had friends, but it's always me that has to call. You're the only one I can really talk to, you know."

"And you're one of the people I count on, Quinn. You can always talk to me."

"Thanks, Sis."

"So are you going to tell me what happened that has you so happy? I can hear something in your voice."

"I think I made a friend today. I hope so, anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

**Sisters and Friends**

_Chapter 2_

_**Curiouser and Curiouser**_

"Hey, Morgendorffer," smiled Annie, tray in hand.

"Sit. You don' t have to ask." Quinn glanced at Annie's tray. "What's with the rabbit food? You're not copying me, are you?"

"Nah, just kinda lost my appetite after that damn Flannery O'Connor story discussion. How did she think of those horrible things anyway? I thought everything was peachy keen in in 1953. I mean, women wore heels with aprons in the kitchen, and men smoked pipes while they made birdhouses wearing ties."

"Well, it was only eight years after World War II. We had dropped atomic bombs on civilian targets, and learned about the Holocaust. By then, veterans had begun to mainstream into American society, men who were in their teens when they had to see and do horrible things as soldiers. I think the rosy life-is-good veneer was something we had to have to hold onto sanity." Quinn put her fork down. "God, I sound like my sister."

Annie started in on her salad. "Sounds like your history teacher was better than your English teacher."

Quinn laughed. "Yeah, I guess he was. Poor guy had to deal with us not paying attention and not giving a crap about what he and his generation had gone through in Vietnam. I should send him an apology."

"You should, if you think about it. People should apologize to each other more. My dad-" Annie fell silent, and after a while, put her fork down. She pushed her salad away. "I'll be right back." She stood and walked back into the serving area.

_What was that about? Did I say something that got her upset?_ Quinn turned in her seat to look for Annie, but didn't see her. She had left her backpack, so Quinn settled in to wait, waking the E reader.

She began reading the story for the second time, finding it just as upsetting as the first time through. Ugh. Too close to lunch. _Guess I spotted a little cloud on the horizon. Well, it can wait; if she wants to elaborate, she will, and I'll listen then. _

Annie reappeared, sitting down with a sigh. "Fuck it." She handed Quinn a spoon. "Feel free. I shouldn't eat all of this anyway."

"And here I was thinking that you were a nice girl. You suck flying monkey butt," Quinn smiled, staring at the ridiculous ice cream sundae in front of Annie.

The two young women ate the dessert with gusto. After polishing it off, Quinn got up to get two bottles of water to cut down the sweetness.

"You know, this will make people think we're gay. I'm not, and I don't think you are," the redhead said, reclaiming her seat. She set a bottle of water in front of her friend.

"Thanks. Nope, not gay. But this will keep the dumber guys away for a while, so whatever. Who cares what people think?" Annie crossed her arms, and then caught herself.

"Yeah, right," Annie muttered, more to herself than to Quinn. "I guess I decided to try to not care about that, since it causes so much stress when you find yourself trying to be someone that you're not."

"That's a hard thing to get away from," Quinn sighed, leaning back into her chair. "It's about labels, appearances, being manipulated into questioning your self image so you follow someone else's dictates like so many fashion sheep."

"Yeah, but that's easy to say when you already look good. No matter what we _should _think, we judge other people by their appearance. I mean, I looked at you and decided you weren't some kind of nutcase. Maybe I'm wrong." Annie smirked. "I don't think I am, but that's why I'm talking to you. I'm trying to see who's behind the pretty redhead exterior, dressed casually like a smart, upper middle class college girl who goofed off in high school and wound up here." Annie tilted her head, curved fingers held to her lips. "I'm guessing penitent former fashion nazi."

"Oh God," Quinn laughed. "_Nailed_ it."

"Okay, your turn. What the hell am I? And don't say mysterious."

Quinn studied the young woman, her dark eyes meeting her own. They sparkled with the same bright fire that lit Daria's eyes, but she was her own, non-conforming, not-quite-fitting-in, fiercely independent person. She looked carefully; noting the hands, the body language, the clothing. "Okay, here goes. I'd guess that you are a creative person. You're an outsider, not a joiner, have an excellent eye for details, and don't much give a shit about trends. You can make pair of jeans look good, and you _do_ care about what guys see, at least what you choose to show them."

Annie blushed slightly, shaking her head with a small smile. "I guess I did ask for it," she laughed.

"You're bright, want to be an architect, and you like cats and thrift stores."

"Alright already. I gave you that architect bit, if I remember correctly. I mentioned Raft's architectural school."

"That, and the graphite around your nails."

"What about the thrift store thing?"

"Lucky guess. You're smart and creative, and probably resourceful. Daria and Jane like going to those. Daria likes the cheap books and music, Jane loves buying weird shit to glue together. I'm also guessing," Quinn ventured carefully, "that you don't have unlimited funds."

"True. Actually not as bad as I thought, but I'll still be working to get through college. I do want to get my cores out of the way at Lawndale State, and then try for a better school."

"Same here. Didn't feel right to piss away my parent's money when I don't really know what I want to major in." _And Daria deserves it more than I do. She worked for it, I didn't. She was the one who took the AP classes, held the 4.0 GPA, got the scholarships, and look where she is now._

"How'd you know about the cat thing?"

"Your thrift store T shirt," smirked Quinn. "Very cool and vintage."

Annie laughed. "God, I forgot. My favorite!"

"Who was _F. Frederic Skitty? _Is that a cigar or a joint he's smoking?"

"Definitely a joint. Don't worry, I'm no stoner. I actually found this in my mom's old stuff in the attic and she gave it to me. Said she used to wear it to piss off her parents- it's a character out of a '70s hippie comic book."

Quinn smiled. "My parents were hippies. You should come over for dinner tonight since you're wearing that shirt; got plans?"

"Nothing beyond homework. Sure, if you're offering free food, we college students are required to accept it."

**_A/N: Google the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers and Fat Freddy's Cat. Still in publication by the __Rip Off Press__. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sisters and Friends**

_Chapter 3_

**_Operation Hippie Chick_**

"Hey, Nichols," Quinn smiled as Annie dropped her backpack onto the library table. "You passed with flying colors, even if my Dad thought you were my new _girlfriend_."

"Your dad is a hoot," Annie laughed, earning them some dirty looks from the other library denizens. "Seriously, how come your mom hasn't killed him yet?"

"Let's just say I'm glad I have an iPod. That stupid shirt of yours got them all in the mood, if you get my drift. They got kinda frisky after you left."

"Eww."

"I know. But then, that's why we're here."

"Point taken."

"Besides, they still love each other. Odd matches can work after all."

"Bummer about your sister and her guy," sighed Annie, still in her '70's groove_. _She fingered the Peace symbol on a leather thong around her neck, another artifact from her mom's stuff in the attic.

"Annie, what's that _thing_ on your finger?"

"Mom said it's a _mood ring._

Quinn looked at her friend, and slowly grinned.

* * *

"This thing is really cool. Kinda gross, but still cool," Annie said, looking closely at the glowing fluorescent blob writhing in the authentic reproduction _Lava Lite._

"People used to stare at these things when they got stoned in the olden days," intoned the pimply sales guy behind the counter, attempting to impress the two hot girls that had wandered into the shop known as _Puff the Magic Dragon._

"Fuck You, kid," snapped an older patron, slapping a copy of _High Times_ on the counter. "Olden days my ass. Gimmie a couple packs of Zig-Zag too." He turned to Quinn, who had found the rack of vintage underground comics. "These days we just watch internet cat videos and laugh our asses off till we puke."

"Why the fuck are we here, Morgendorffer?" Annie whispered to her friend, edging away from the counter.

"Looking for things that might remind my mom of more _liberal_ times, and why she got with my dad in the first place. It was _your_ idea, you know. Don't get your tie-dyed panties in a knot."

"I'm not wearing panties. And anyway, if you tried to tie-dye a _thong,_ you'd never get it untangled."

"Wiseass."

"Yep, I have an accomplished posterior."

"Kidding, right?"

"Of course. Can we get out of here? That sales guy creeps me out."

* * *

"Well, it l_ooked_ easy enough on that YouTube video," laughed Quinn.

"It was easy," grumbled Annie, looking at her stained blouse. "Just messy as hell."

"Good thing we put newspapers down and worked in the garage," said Quinn. "Here, put this on. We can tie-dye that blouse in this last batch."

"Looks like Walt Disney puked in here," Annie snickered. "I like it."

* * *

"Quinn, where are you going dressed like _that?" _Helen blinked.

"Just trying a new retro look, Mom. Maybe Annie and I will start a campus fad."

"Uh huh. You look like a tropical fish."

"Got the idea from that old T shirt Annie had on. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with aggressively cheerful color. If it doesn't work, so what? _I_ like it." Quinn gave her mother a little wave as she headed out the door.

_At least she's wearing a bra,_ sighed Helen. _Wait. I smell patchouli_. A slow smile snuck across her face as she sipped her coffee, remembering the times when she loved tie-dyed clothes.

* * *

"Hey, Morgendorffer," came the droll greeting. "Wanna paint some protest signs after class?"

Annie dodged a mock dope slap as they walked into class. "I'm sitting up front with you. I wanna see if we can discombobulate Ms. Tomlinson."

"Is that even a real word?"

"Must be. My spellchecker swallows it, so there."

The rest of the class dragged in reluctantly; Quinn and Annie got some strange looks, which they ignored. At least Quinn was used to being stared at, and went with it. Annie just followed suit.

"Morning, claaa…?" Ms. Tomlinson trailed off, having spotted her two top students. After the initial surprise had worn off, the corners of her normally grim-set mouth ticked upwards. "In keeping with this strong visual," she indicated the two sitting in the front row, "I'm introducing a work by Richard Brautigan, originally written in 1961 and published in 1967 called _Trout Fishing in America." _Turning back to Quinn and Annie, she flashed them a Peace sign, which they gamely returned. "Right On, ladies," she smiled. "Thank you for the serendipitous visual aid."

On the way out, she stopped Annie, pointing to the message she had Sharpied on her shirt. "I believe the slogan was _Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out,_ not _Drop Dead, _Ms. Nichols."

Annie smiled, and replied cooly. "It's a subtle anti-drug message, Ms. Tomlinson."

"Riiiight."

"Nice try," snickered Quinn as they walked out to the cafeteria.

"I do _not_ partake of mind-altering substances, I'll have you know. I have enough trouble with my mind as it is," mock-huffed Annie. "I'm health conscious. I'm practically a vegetarian."

"Chicken is not a vegetable."

"Well, stupid ones may as well be, and that's practically every chicken I've met. When have you ever seen a chicken with a modicum of intelligence?"

"So you'll eat vegetables and stupid animals?"

"And animals that are not cute."

"Ever hear the expression _you are what you eat?"_

"Jeez, Morgendorffer, you can be such a buttmunch, you know that?"

* * *

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." Quinn could hear her sister's sad smile even over the phone.

"It won't work, you know. Mom's not that easy, but I want you to know that I do appreciate your trying." Daria sounded lighter.

"Well, maybe it won't happen overnight," Quinn sighed, "But I'm figuring it can't hurt. Any pressure will help."

"How did Annie get involved?"

"She kinda knows about the problem with Mom and Trent, and she wanted in. She thinks you're really cool."

"That's nice to hear, but we haven't even spoken on the phone. Why does she want to help? And what makes her think she'd even like me as a person?"

"Because she's my friend, Daria, and she knows you mean a lot to me."

There was a long moment of quiet. Finally, Daria spoke up. "Sis, thanks for caring. And please thank Annie for me. Don't forget to send photos."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sisters and Friends**

_Chapter 4_

_**Water Under The Bridge**_

_Quinn reached over and stopped her laptop's media player, and then closed the window. Sighing, she removed her earbuds, having dozed off while waiting for Annie to finish the final draft. She glanced over at her friend, who was asleep at her desk. She quickly scanned the text, satisfied that the changes had been made._

At least they were able to finish Annie's term paper. They could print it out in the morning.

"Go to bed, Nichols. You're gonna give yourself a cramp in your neck like that. Did you save that document?"

"Mrrrffgghyeah..." Annie slowly got to her feet. "Teeth. Brush...'kay?"

Quinn got the impression that Annie was a heavy sleeper. She watched, bemused, as her friend pulled some clothes out of her dresser and sleepwalked to the bathroom. She seemed to remember that Jane was like that too, that time she and Trent had stayed over at the Morgendorffer home.

This was the last of the summer session's work. In two weeks, she and Annie would be starting at Lawndale State.

* * *

Annie's mom, as it turned out, was a tiny, pretty woman, even smaller than Daria.

She was also a _very_ good cook. Quinn and Annie quickly cleared the dishes from the table, and found that her mother had cleaned up after herself as she cooked. Quinn unboxed the small cheesecake she had brought for dessert as Annie produced small plates and forks.

"Thank you for dinner, Ms. Nichols, it was really good!" Quinn smiled, placing a slice of cheesecake in front of the older woman.

"Thank you for dessert, Quinn, you didn't have to go through the trouble. I'm very glad you came to help Annie with her English paper. And please call me Sara."

_They have the same smile; it's pretty clear where Annie got her good looks from._

Sara was definitely Asian, although it wasn't obvious to Quinn where in that vast continent her ancestors had come from.

"Okinawa Prefecture, the southernmost part of Japan," Sara smiled, "My Great Grandparents were from there. Halfway between the major islands of Japan and Taiwan, also known as the Ryukyu Islands. Ethnically and culturally, quite different. Even the native language is different from Japanese, although since the end of World War II the standard Tokyo dialect has been taught in the schools there."

"So you're Japanese?" Quinn had asked, fascinated. She looked between Sara and Annie; Sara herself looked Eurasian somehow.

"Ethnically, I suppose you could say that. The bloodlines there are different than in Japan proper; in past times Okinawa was a trading center. I suppose quite a few Dutch and other European sailors jumped ship." Sara smiled. "Many Okinawans look different; the women were considered to be somewhat exotic to the Japanese eye."

Quinn tried not to be obvious about it, but she looked carefully at the older woman. _Her eyes are hazel, and her hair's much lighter than Jane's._

"I was born and raised in Glendale, near Los Angeles; so I think that makes me American."

Annie sat back in her chair. Her eyes blazed as she began speaking, arms crossed. "Not according to Dad's-"

"That's quite enough, young lady," Sara said quietly. Annie fell silent. "We have some family conflicts that have not been fully resolved."

Quinn looked at her friend, wondering what she could do to help. Annie was her friend, and she was hurting. What was it that bothered her so much? She wasn't going to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted, but she was ready to listen, and to help if she could.

Sara studied the faces of the two young women in front of her. Her daughter, shaking with suppressed anger; and her friend, concern and helplessness evident on her features. She saw how the young woman was leaning forward towards Annie, wondering what she could do.

At least, she deserved to understand.

"Annie's father's family had issues with me; they didn't want their son marrying someone Asian, and especially Japanese. His father had been a POW in the Pacific, and the anger he carried had spilled over to my husband's family. When we married, they cut off all contact."

"That's…I…" Quinn started. She could feel her face flush in anger, and suddenly she understood why Annie had identified with the difficulty Daria was having with their mom.

"That's just…_unfair,"_ Quinn managed. "Did they even _know_ you?" She'd met Sara just a short time ago, but clearly Annie's sweet, affable personality was inherited from her mother. _How could…_

"The scars were deep, of course. His parents wouldn't meet, let alone talk to me. All they had was a photograph that Martin had sent them, and that was enough to set them off."

"Dad never tried to bridge that chasm, and when his parents passed- first his father, and then his mother, a year later- he never acknowledged them. He had two brothers, and had gotten into a huge fight with them before he and Mom married. He never spoke to them again either."

Sara looked first at her daughter, and then at Quinn, who was still in shock.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn finally managed. She reached over and squeezed Annie's hand, who returned a small but appreciative smile. "No wonder you wanted to help Daria."

Sara smiled at the two girls. "Life is too short to be lost to anger."

She looked over to the fireplace, and Quinn followed her gaze. In the center of the mantle was a triangular glass-fronted walnut case. Inside was a tightly folded flag. To the side was a small framed photograph of a distinguished, handsome man in a dark suit.

"Oh, no," Quinn whispered, realizing now why Annie's dad was not here.

"Martin was formerly a Marine, and was employed as an Analyst by the Government. At least that's what he was supposed to be. He died during a fact-finding assignment in Afghanistan."

"We don't know what he really did," Annie said quietly. "He never spoke about his work. A lot of things were left unsaid before he died."

"The animosity between Martin and his parents seemed to come mostly from his father. After he passed, his mother began to make changes to the will, as the control of their assets passed to her. After she had died, we heard that Annie had been given an equal share of the estate as the rest of the grandchildren, with an additional sum as compensation for a young lifetime of missed birthdays, Christmases and other gifts. In addition, Martin's inheritance was restored."

"Mom did receive Dad's share of the estate after he died; but my portion, which was held in trust, was mostly lost. My uncles took it upon themselves to "remedy" that part of the will by taking us to court. It seems that they intended to carry out my Grandfather's wishes, and of course to even argue for the relinquishment of Dad's share. They really didn't have a legal basis to stand on, but Dad's younger brother is a Lawyer. They put us into a position where we were forced to choose between an expensive, long legal fight and simply giving in. Our attorney advised us to seek a negotiated settlement so we were at least able to walk away with something."

"We've already spent thousands on legal services," Sara said sadly. "It's not so much the money that bothers me, but the bad feelings."

Quinn sat back in her chair, seething with rage.

"We are still grateful for what we did get, though," Sara went on. "We expected nothing. Martin had some insurance, and his government position, whatever it really was, provides a surviving spousal stipend. All together, we have enough to get by. So, we're lucky that we have enough left so Annie can go to college."

* * *

Quinn settled in; the odd, blocky, cloth-covered chair in Annie' room unfolded into a surprisingly comfortable futon. Still, tired as she was, sleep eluded her.

_That is just so damn unfair. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Sisters and Friends**

_Chapter 5_

_**Girlfriends**_

_Jeez, and I thought the accelerated courses at the Community College were rough. Daria suggested that I keep the academic load down for the first term, like thirteen credits. Naturally, like an idiot, I sign up for eighteen, just so that I have some classes with Annie. Damn, my schedule sucks._

_ I'm really glad I took that Lit and the English refresher over the summer. I decided to take the English 101 class anyway, even though I probably could have tested out. I really need more practice in writing, and it's easier for me this time around. The history class is actually turning out to be pretty interesting- maybe I did learn something from DeMartino; and I'm really glad that I spent that time with David. I wonder how he's doing; he's really a good guy, and I learned way more than I bargained for from him. I should drop him a note and thank him._

_ The rest of the coursework is pretty standard for freshmen-Media and Society, and there's the Psychology and the Comparative Religion classes I have with Annie._

_After the first few weeks I finally hit my stride. It's now October, and I've been really good about not allowing myself to get out of balance, socially and academically._

_Annie's a strange one- she seems reluctant to interact with the guys she so easily attracts, even though she clearly likes boys, not girls, in that way. She has that Anime Girl look, that mix of Asian and Caucasian; it's different. Still, I know there's something about guys hitting on her that troubles her, and again, I'm ready to listen if she wants to talk about it._

_Annie is my best friend. I never thought it would be something that makes me so happy to say, but it does. I think she and I are as close now as Daria and Jane. Sure, we can get on each other's nerves sometimes, but we know when to back off. And we know if we need help, we're there for each other._

_It seems a little weird to say this, but she's actually a lot like Daria. She's a private person, not completely at ease with how others see her. I suppose it comes from growing up different, kind of being an outsider; it's really hard for her to open up to people. Having come to terms with my relationship with my own sister makes it easier to accept Annie for who she is, not who I think she should be._

* * *

"Hey, Morgendorffer, what's for lunch?" Annie drops her backpack on the bench and pulls out the drinks. We take turns making sandwiches- it takes just a little more time to make a second sandwich, and it's a lot cheaper than the cafeteria. No waiting in line, and it saves Annie some money. Besides, sometimes her mom takes over and makes us teriyaki chicken. I love her mom.

"Meatloaf sandwiches, made with not-cute cows."

"Not-cute Tofu cows, right?"

"Absolutely, Nichols. I'd never poison your _vegetarian _butt."

"How does a kosher BLT sound for tomorrow?

"Where do you get Kosher bacon?"

"Same place your vegetarian pastrami comes from," Annie snickered. "They hide it behind the vegetarian steaks."

We talk about guys; nothing serious yet. We spend more time talking about the coursework; despite the relatively heavy load we're both doing okay. Annie's a smart girl. We set up some cram sessions at my house for the upcoming tests in our shared classes; she'll stay over and then we'll drive to school the next morning. You know what they say, misery loves company. It lightens the load to have someone to beat your head against the wall with. You can come up with some interesting beats.

After a while, Annie stops eating. "You know, it's okay if you want to hang out with other people, Quinn. You don't have to accommodate me."

"Are you still on about that Sorority thing?" Quinn asks, pausing to take a drink. "Seriously, it's okay. I used to think that I wanted to pledge when I got into college, but honestly, it just doesn't seem important anymore. Part of it was the sense of belonging to a group, to have friends, but I realized that that was just an extension of what I knew in high school."

Annie wiped a bit of tomato sauce off her fingertips. "I just don't feel the need to try to fit in anymore. I'm not a joiner, and I'm okay with that. I'll be okay if you want to join a club or campus organization. If you want to, you should do it. I may or may not be interested too, but I'm going to be honest about it. What about your friends from that club you used to be in?"

Quinn snorted a bit of her drink through her nose, laughing. "The Fashion Club? It kind of fell apart in the last year of school. The person I was friendliest with was Stacy Rowe, and she was kind of a basket case. She really needed to figure out who she was. Her life was dominated by insecurities, always trying to please other people. The one that I said was a _Frenemy _was Sandi Griffin, who was kind of the club Uberbitch. I don't know why I hung out with them. I think part of it was because they annoyed the hell out of my poor sister. God, we were so full of ourselves. I guess I don't try hard to keep in contact with them because it embarrasses me so much to remember what I was like back then."

Annie smiled and started on her sandwich again. After she finished, she brushed the crumbs off her sweater. "Maybe it's a good thing that we didn't meet until now."

* * *

_It's been over a month since Sara told me about her husband's family. Every time I think about it I still get mad. I need to get more info on exactly what went on, but I can tell that it's a sensitive thing for Annie. The reasons for that turn out to be more complex than I thought; a big part of it is that she wants to protect her mother. She knows that Sara, despite her acceptance of the situation, is still deeply troubled by it. Annie, for herself, is just flat out pissed._

"Quinn, I know you want to help, and I really do appreciate it. But you have to understand, my Mom doesn't want to drag this out into the open again. I don't know if anything can be done at this point, but no matter what, I will respect her wishes."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_Chapter 6_

_**About the Mating Game**_

"Nice blouse," smiles Annie. "I could spot you clear across campus. How goes the low-level psychological war?"

"Not sure, but it can't hurt. I like this tie-dye stuff. I've been wearing it around the house when I know Mom's gonna be around."

"You smell groovy too," laughed Annie. "That patchouli is a pretty calming scent. Does it attract butterflies?"

"Actually it seems to keep bugs away; but it does attract that skeevy guy from our Psych class. And I'm starting to hear _sitars_ when it's real quiet."

"You crack me up, Quinn. One day you're dressed like a lawyer in training, and the next like this. Seriously Jekyll and Hyde."

"All part of the plan…besides, I need to dress my age. My closet was full of stuff that didn't really fit anymore, and it made me look like a teen twit."

"And this…?"

"A paean to a lost idealism," emoted Quinn, the back of her hand to her forehead.

"Or maybe a warning against eating a pound of gummi bears after a six-pack of beer," snickered Annie. "I still like it. I'll do retro tomorrow. We could alternate, really freak people out."

Quinn shaded her eyes, looking across the quad. "Age of Aquarius, take two," she smiled. Annie followed her gaze and broke into a grin.

A trio of girls were skipping across the grass, two of them in peasant dresses. The third, in embroidered jeans and a particularly garish tie-dye top, carried a guitar with flower stickers all over it.

"Either they're making fun of us or we really did start a fad," laughed Annie.

"Goddam kids nowadays don't think for themselves," mock-tutted Quinn.

"You think we can get them to burn their bras?" deadpanned Annie.

"No way, my bras fit great and I just bought them."

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Quinn straightened the twenty-page term paper and reached for a binder clip. _At least that's out of the way for the Thanksgiving break. _

"Annie, what's this?" Quinn indicated a dark stone bowl that perched on a shelf above Annie's printer. Hanging above it were some small strips of twisted, clear plastic film that dipped into a pool of water in the bottom of the bowl.

"I guess you could say it's an art project. I call it "Sea of Dreams." She shut her laptop down and made her way over. "See, these streamers move in the slightest breeze, and that causes tiny ripples in the water held in the bowl.

"Three small laser pointers are aimed through the plastic and reflect off the surface of the water and on to the ceiling. It makes interesting patterns, like the surface of a pond in the wind. The lasers are powered by a sun-charged battery, so they can operate for hours into the night. There's a little electronic circuit that shuts the power off after the voltage runs down to a certain point, preventing permanent damage to the battery. Just push that button and the lasers will turn on."

"Annie," Quinn mused in the darkness, transfixed by the reflections on the ceiling as they shifted and rippled, "when did you first figure out that you wanted to be an architect?"

The tree outside the window creaked quietly, bending slightly in the night breeze.

"I was thirteen. My cousin Barry, who was I think must have been in his twenties, was visiting from California. His father had been killed when he was just a toddler, in Vietnam. He wanted to visit the Wall, the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial in Washington. I went along, not very happy about having to go, with my Dad, Mom, and Cousin Barry. I mean, a war memorial?

"But when I got there, I was amazed. It's like this big slash in the ground, like a big wound in the earth, and there's this black granite wall with names carved in it, all casualties of the Vietnam War. We searched and found Uncle Johnny's name, and Barry reached into his pocket and pulled out this really old bottle of perfume. It belonged to his mother; he had found it when he was cleaning out her house after she passed away. He put a tiny amount on his finger, and touched it to his father's name that was carved into that black stone.

"I kind of held back to give him some privacy, and I realize that people all around us were searching for names, those of their loved ones, fallen comrades, leaving notes, flowers, making rubbings on paper of all these names.

"Quinn, there were 58,195 names carved into that stone. It brought into razor sharp focus a small part of the human cost and sacrifice that was that war. I went home completely blown away by the _power_ of that place, the way that memorial touched people. And I started reading about it. I found out that it was designed by Maya Lin, an Asian American woman, who at the time was a twenty-one year old _student_ at Yale.

"One day, I want to design something as amazing as that."

Annie paused, a lump in her throat. "You know, her design was chosen because it was the best and because the judging was blind. Nobody knew who had submitted the design. When it became known that the winning entry was by an Asian American woman, she got _shit_ for it. Back then, some asshole from Texas, some rich businessman running for President of the country- called her an _Egg Roll_. Just because of her race, she got shit despite the quality of her work."

Quinn was silent for awhile. "But in the end, the Wall was made."

"Yeah," said Annie quietly, "there is that."

They both lay quietly, watching the rippling patterns on the ceiling.

"Fucking stereotypes. Why can't people judge others by who they are instead of what they look like?"

"That was the point that Daria was making in high school, dressing the way she did," Quinn mused.

"High school," Annie said bitterly. "I never told you that I was a cheerleader, did I? The token minority chick. I lasted for half my junior year. I was _thrilled_ when they chose me for the squad."

"Half a year? What happened?"

Annie was silent for a long time. Finally, she sat up on her bed. "You _really _want to know?"

Quinn could only see Annie's profile against the softly billowing curtains. She was sitting, hugging her knees, head down. "Only if you want to tell me. You don't have to if…" She stopped.

Annie was crying softly.

"I was in _love,_ Quinn. The captain of the football team started dating _me_. I thought he loved me too, but he didn't. I found out when I got out of practice early one day, and I went over to wait for him by the locker room. I could hear voices that day, because one of the high windows had been left open. And I heard him bragging to his teammates about sleeping with me, how I was the best he'd had, because according to him all Asian chicks have tight pussies."

"Oh, Annie…" Quinn got off the futon and crossed over to Annie, drawing her close, letting her cry on her shoulder.

"That's all I was to him, Quinn," Annie sobbed. "I was an exotic _fuck._ I was so stupid, and I wanted so badly to believe that _I_ mattered, not whatever it was that somebody _wanted _me to be. That just hurt like hell."

Quinn held her tight, letting her cry it out. _Daria would know how to get rid of the body, I bet._

After awhile, Annie calmed down. Oddly, she began to chuckle_._

Annie pulled away. "There's more to the story. Thing is, I never even _slept_ with that asshole. Things got hot and heavy at times, but it never went that far. It was locker room bullshit. He got to brag, and I wound up something of a pariah the rest of my Junior year."

"Wait, what? How did that happen?" _Usually you get even more attention when you get a reputation, valid or not._

"I avoided him until the next game, I was so pissed off at him. At halftime, he was fooling around, and he bent over and wiggled his ass at me. The other guys on the team started with the monkey hooting, and I lost it. I threw my damn pompoms on the ground and walked over to him and I kicked him hard in the balls, in front of the whole school. I was so mad I broke my toe, and managed to cave in his protective cup. That put him out of the game, and we lost."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 7**_

_**The Things We Do For Love**_

_I got a call from Aunt Amy this morning- she's offered to pay for a plane ticket for me, to take a quick overnight trip to Boston. I could do it tomorrow- the Thanksgiving break starts Friday._

_The idea is to soften Daria up a little, get her to just consider opening a dialog with Mom again. Things have clamped down tight lately; Daria seems to be at the point where she's cutting off contact with Mom, and by extension, Dad as well. Amy's been trying to talk to Mom, and it's classic Barksdale pighead mode. Daria and Mom are digging their heels in, and if it wasn't so damn hard on Dad and most likely Trent as well it would be comical. Stupid smart people._

Quinn gazed out the window; as the plane banked to turn she could see the regional airport not too far below, the green beltway, and then the highway that stretched around the low hills to Lawndale. People in tiny cars, flecks on the smooth greens of the Twin Trees Golf Course; specks on the sidewalks of the new housing developments.

Most would not bother to look up to see the small commuter turboprop as it climbed into the bright autumn sky, bound for Boston; a meaningless distraction as each of them played out their own personal dramas. Thousands of stories that would go unheard, a tangle of lifelines. _You followed only the threads that had meaning to you; it was impossible to follow them all. You had to settle for doing what you could, what you decided what was important enough for you to spend the precious seconds that made up your human lifetime._

This was one of those things that Quinn not only had to, but wanted to do.

Aunt Amy could read her sister and her daughters well, and knew who just might be able to carry out this task.

Daria had lived in Boston now for well over a year. Quinn had made the drive up with the rest of the family, hauling her big sister's stuff to school and up to her dorm room. Quinn had loved the atmosphere at Raft; it was such a beautiful, dignified campus. _One day, I'll go to a place like this too,_ she thought, seeing the quiet anticipation in Daria's eyes. _This is your kind of place, not that pit Lawndale. You'll fit in here, you've earned it. _

The last time Quinn had seen her face to face was at her graduation. Sure, they had been in touch several times a week since then, but Quinn was looking forward to actually seeing Daria again.

Aunt Amy still drove that old red Triumph Spitfire. It suited her; self-confident, iconoclastic, quirky. _Daria's going to look like her when she gets older._ Quinn used to think of Amy as her mother's weird sister, but to her maturing eyes Amy was cool. And really quite pretty, for an older woman.

She drove that little convertible like a bat out of hell. The top was down, and it was hard on hair, but it was exhilarating. After a circuitous route they pulled up to a modern glass tower, in the midst of what was probably the financial district of Boston. Quinn smiled as she pulled her single bag out of Amy's trunk; she noticed that there was a fair quantity of light rope for lashing a much larger piece of luggage to the tiny luggage rack on the car's trunk lid.

"Give me a call if you need me to pick you up. Sixth floor; Hanlon, Page and Myers. Jane says she's supposed to be breaking for lunch around one-thirty. Good luck."

Amy waved and merged back into the city traffic.

Quinn turned and walked into her sister's new life.

* * *

_Daria's changed. She's toughened up some, and she's more self-confident and at ease with herself. She's a lot more like mom than she'd care to admit; no wonder the two of them have been butting heads. It's less like an issue between mother and daughter, but rather between two smart, stubborn women. Mom's an experienced competitor, but Daria's learning how strong she really is._

_I've been talking to her as a sister, so what I've been seeing is her warmer side, without the armor. Here, though, she's a real scrapper. Promoted to an assistant editor in such a short time? Why not? She's got the intellect, and this sparring with Mom's brought out her steel. _

_The youngest in the office, and she's respected and admired. If you knew what you were doing and did your best, she'd probably be a great boss to work for._

_Otherwise, look out._

_Damn, she looks good._

* * *

It was pretty obvious that Daria was counting her pennies. She wasn't at all familiar with the area eateries; after all, she was getting by on peanut butter sandwiches and stuff like that, not wanting to spend the money that Trent earned on luxuries like decent food.

She was saving as much money as she could, hoping to scrape enough together for another term at Raft. It wasn't that her parents were refusing to pay for her tuition; rather she was walking away from their help so long as they refused to accept Trent as being good enough for her. To that end, they had refused to support her living arrangement by not providing her with the housing allowance that they had previously promised.

Trent accepted the responsibility and was paying for the place they all shared. It was his task to support Jane, and now Daria, as far as he could; he also paid for the food. It was something given without resentment; the situation was what it was, and he valued his relationship with the two women greatly.

Jane worked at the BFAC Printmaking Lab, where she pretty much ran the place. In exchange for minimum wage and a partial tuition waiver, she kept the presses clean and in good trim, the supply cabinets stocked, the etching acids and other hazardous materials under lock and key.

All together, they were getting by.

Their greatest luxury was Trent's Friday night gig, where they could enjoy some great appetizers and sneak a few drinks. Every other week the management comped their meals; the agreement was really only for Trent's dinner, but Donny, the manager, stretched it a bit when the owner wasn't in and included his girlfriend's and sister's food. For Daria, the evening was always a soothing revelation, the music that Trent created for her was like a secret diamond in a perfect setting.

Daria tried to cover Quinn's food, but Quinn insisted on paying her own way.

* * *

_I think I made my point to Daria. It's not just about the fight with Mom, but the collateral damage. Trent's never complained to her, but come on, it really is not fair to him. I kind of understood why Daria has always been attracted to him, but this visit has made it plain to me how much they both mean to each other. She's lucky, he's a pretty awesome guy, and I know he's going to make it in music if he can keep up that kind of songwriting._

_Talk to Mom, Sis, if only for his sake._

* * *

Mom hit the roof when I told her where I really went. I figured I should let her get over that little deception before I start working on her. Besides, Jane's sending me some scans of her sketches that might help.

God, I never realized just how good Jane is. She emailed scans of a dozen representational drawings that she did. I picked two, and she's going to mail the originals to me. One is a study of Trent, taking care of Daria who's fallen asleep studying at the kitchen table. The other was made of the two of them sitting on that old sofa, right after Daria's had it out with Mom. Daria's in tears, something you almost never see, and Trent's right there for her. _Looking at it, you can tell that she's not upset about the housing money, but because Mom doesn't want her with Trent._

"Original art stands out, Quinn. The difference is clear when you hold the actual piece in your hands. Trust me on this."

They arrive on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Mom and I have been going around on this since Sunday, and I put the artwork on the table before I leave for school.

_I know it's going to work. Both of them have been softened up a little. It's just a question of which one is going to make the first move. Daria's the one that feels ill treated and she's still mad. Mom… she really had Daria's best interest at heart, it's just that she went about things all wrong. I'm betting on Mom; Jane's two drawings are gonna push her over the edge._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 8**_

_**It's Own Reward**_

Annie looked at her friend with admiration. "Well played, Morgendorffer. You should get a medal."

"Why? I just did what had to be done. Aunt Amy was the one who really figured out what might work. That plane ticket must have cost a fortune, with that short booking."

"She must have figured the time was right, and she knew you were the one to pull it off."

"I'm just glad that Mom and Daria finally resolved this. It was really hard on my Dad," Quinn smiled. "Mom actually ditched work to fly to Boston, just so she could talk to Daria face to face. She actually apologized to both Daria and Trent. I never thought I'd see the day when my Mother would capitulate."

"Are all the women in your family as stubborn as that?" Annie smirked.

Quinn was quiet for a long moment. "Yeah. It comes from being lucky enough to come from a privileged and powerful background. Daria and I are basically spoiled kids who've had the luxury of a decent home life, and family that provided us with what we needed. We were just too self-centered to realize that."

"She stepped up to the bar; she knows how to work hard. I bet that she'd have been able to do it on her own."

"But that's just it. I got her to back down because she finally realized that she had dumped a lot of it onto Trent. That guy didn't deserve that kind of shit. Daria and I get mad when we don't get what we think we're entitled to, and we wind up sometimes hurting the people around us. "

"So you're happy for your sister and her guy, and not at all smug about it. That's some major Karmic points, Morgendorffer. You're giving back."

Quinn smiled at Annie. _It's gonna take a lot more than that to begin to find a balance. _"You're actually kinda proud of me, aren't you?"

"It's more like I'm proud to be your friend, Quinn."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 9**_

_**Things Left Behind**_

_Now that things have settled down, maybe I can hit Mom up for some help._

Quinn opened her eyes, giving up on trying to fall asleep. They had gotten the outlines for their papers done; Quinn was glad to be able to help with some solid rhetorical strategies for Annie. Maybe she wasn't as smart as her sister Daria, but she did okay. She and Annie worked well together; Quinn was more methodical and analytic, while Annie was more independent in her thinking.

Quinn flipped the covers off the futon and padded over to the stone bowl above the printer. She opened the window just a little; it wasn't as cold for this time of the year as it might have been. Reaching behind the bowl, she pushed the button to switch on the little lasers on Annie's light sculpture. She found the bottle of clear liquid and poured a little into the stone bowl, smiling as the ceiling flickered to life. The undulating reflections that played overhead never failed to calm her.

"Annie?"

"Uhhhhmm?"

"Do you have any of the papers from that legal fight? Copies?"

"Mmmff. Drawer. Desk."

"Can I look?"

"Sure. Lemme sleep, dammit."

* * *

"Quinn, you say that they actually _paid _for this legal advice?"

"I guess it was someone they could afford. Can they do anything at this point?"

"Well, it's a bit tricky. This actually didn't go to court, and there was no judgment made. The actions were essentially an agreement between private parties. We could have argued that they were threatened with legal action that was unlikely to result in the claim actually being awarded, and that Annie and Sara were simply bullied into concessions. However, there's a one year statute of limitation for this kind of action, and that's past."

"So that's it?"

"I'm not finished. We could pursue a case based on fraud, which would be more difficult; there's a certain misrepresentation implied in this threat of legal action as it's described. We'd have to file within about a year, since the statute of limitations for fraud is three years."

"Do you think we could win?"

Helen looked at her daughter for a moment. _Such idealism. When did I begin to lose mine? _

"Quinn, I know you want to help Annie, but this is real life. It's not fair, I agree. But I don't think you understand what an _ordeal _further legal action would be for Annie and her mother. There's no way we could keep her mother uninvolved. And from what you've told me about Sara, I don't think that she would be one to even _want_ to extract a punitive settlement from them. As cold as it sounds, that means that there wouldn't be enough financial incentive for a firm like mine to pursue a case. The percentage of the award would not be worthwhile."

Helen went on, quietly. "I would be willing to work on this, and I'd have to get approval from the other partners to handle this as a _pro bono_ case. I agree, this is not right. But Quinn, you need to find out if Sara and Annie would be willing to do this."

Quinn was silent for a long time.

"Annie would, but not Sara." She glumly reached for the folder. "So those jerks just get away with this crap."

Helen slowly shook her head. "I didn't say that. Let's see if we can get your sister in on this."

* * *

"Dammit… " Daria had known about Annie's situation, from past conversations with Quinn. Anger had put an ominous edge to her voice, clearly audible over the videocall link. "Mom's right. Given the situation, it doesn't sound like a legal remedy is the answer, but it's probably not the only way to make them reconsider their actions."

Daria settled back in her chair, lost in thought for a moment.

"The origin of this whole mess was her paternal grandfather's experience as a prisoner of the Japanese in WWII," Daria went on. "His reaction is understandable, but there was a whole other dimension to all of this. Ethnicity and Loyalty are not necessarily the same thing."

"Quinn," Helen said thoughtfully, "what do you know about Annie's maternal grandfather?"

"Not much. Sara did say that he tried to enlist in the Army several times, against the wishes of his parents. The Army finally accepted him, and he wound up fighting in Europe. I think he was hurt badly and was sent home to Arizona."

"I thought you said that their family was from Southern California," Helen said quietly.

Quinn thought about it for a moment. "That's what Annie said, but then Sara said that her father returned to Arizona. Gila River, I think it was."

After a moment, Daria responded. "Look up _Executive order 9066_, and then look up the _442__nd__ Regimental Combat Team_ as well as the _522__nd__ Field Artillery Battalion. The 442__nd__ joined up with the 100__th_, from Hawaii. The 552ndwas split off later. These were all Japanese American units. Annie's grandfather would have been in the 442nd or the 522nd."

Daria was apparently opening another window on her laptop. "Gila River was an Internment Camp."

Helen smiled grimly. "A _Quid Pro Quo;_ the outrage of Pearl Harbor and the negativity of simply being ethnically Japanese triggered thousands of young men to enlist even as their families were being held in concentration camps."

_"What?"_ Quinn frowned.

"_9066_. Relocation of Japanese Americans inland, away from the coast, to keep them from facilitating enemy action. The executive order signed by FDR ten weeks after Pearl Harbor," Daria said quietly. After a moment, she went on. "Gila River was just one of the internment camps, along with Manzanar, Tule Lake, Poston, and several more. They closed the camps in 1945, allowing people to return to their homes; most of them had to start over."

"It sounds like you've been researching this, sis," Quinn said quietly.

"I have, at work. There have been calls by extremists for the relocation of Muslims since 9-11, so I've been doing my homework just in case."

After a long silence, Quinn spoke. "What I don't get is why, after so long a time, Annie's paternal grandmother decided to make changes in her will?"

"And she did so only after her husband had died," said Helen. "That suggests that it was something she didn't want to discuss with him. And for what it's worth, she apparently wasn't on the same wavelength as her sons, since they obviously didn't like or understand what she did."

"I agree," Daria mused. "Something else was going on behind the scenes, probably even before Annie's grandfather died." She pulled a pad of paper over and began making a few notes. "I need to do a little research at work. We have more resources available there, and I'm pretty sure Ms. Hanlon will be okay with this. I'll check with her first."

* * *

A few days later, Quinn answered a videocall from her sister. From the multiple monitors behind her, Quinn could see that Daria was in her cubicle at work.

"Okay, from that photo of Annie's grandfather, it shows that he was in fact in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, and that he was a war hero."

Quinn frowned; she looked again at the photograph of Annie's grandfather in his uniform that she had scanned and emailed to Daria, along with everything she could pry out of Annie.

"How do you know-"

"Look at his service decorations." Daria swiveled to face a monitor to the side, and with the click of a mouse an enhanced detail of PFC Seiyei Tamashiro's uniform appeared in a window on Quinn's screen. "Two Soldier's Medals with Oak Leaf Clusters, a Purple Heart, and the one on the left? That, Quinn, is a Distinguished Service Cross. The only higher award is the Medal of Honor. In fact, 21 such medals given to Asian Americans in the Second World War were upgraded to the Medal of Honor by Presidential action in 2000."

Daria again turned to the other monitor and began a quick check. "This is one that was upgraded posthumously." After a moment of reading, Daria continued. "The original DSC was awarded for heroic action on October 29, 1944, near Biffontaine, Eastern France…during the rescue of the 141st Texas Regiment."

Daria fell silent for a moment. "You said that Annie's uncles felt that their mother was not mentally competent when she made those changes to her will."

"Yeah, but I don't know if we'll ever find out why. She died three years ago."

Daria was looking at one of the other monitors on her desk.

"Based on the approximate time of her death, I found her obituary. It says that she was born Emmeline Varnell, 1922, in Lubbock, Texas." After a moment, Daria frowned slightly. "It appears that she had a brother, Tyler, who was a medic in the 141st. He passed away not too long after her husband, Annie's paternal grandfather."

"You're thinking that she might have learned something-"

"You know, Quinn," Daria interrupted, "computing technology is amazing. Check this out." She pressed a few keys, and a photograph opened in a new window on Quinn's screen.

Quinn's mouth fell open. "How-"

"The senior researcher here showed me how to do this yesterday. We have a high end facial recognition program here, and I just did a search across the US Armed forces image database starting with the service records of PFC Seiyei Tamashiro and T/5 Tyler Varnell. This photo of the two of them together was taken in a field hospital some time in late October, 1944, shortly after PFC Tamashiro's left leg was amputated just below the knee."

Quinn stared at the stained, scratched image. The tall Medic, Varnell, was crouched behind Tamashiro, who was laying in a cot. Both men looked exhausted, but were smiling gamely for the camera. Varnell had a hand on Tamashiro's shoulder, and was shaking his hand with the other.

"So Annie's paternal grandmother must have found out that her brother was one of the men rescued by the 442nd. Why did it take so long?"

Daria stared at the other monitor for a long while, and then she sat back in her chair. Her demeanor had become quieter, more subdued.

"She had met and married Nichols in 1944, so he must have been liberated and returned from the Pacific before her brother came home from Europe. I'm sure she spent far more time dealing with the emotional damage her husband suffered. He was one of the survivors of the _Bataan Death March._

"I'm guessing that she was very careful to avoid discussing anything at all that would trigger memories of the war for her husband. It wouldn't be surprising if even hearing a Japanese surname would get a reaction. I'd be willing to bet that they didn't own a Toyota, Honda or Mitsubishi."

"I could see that hearing their son Martin was going to marry Sara was definitely upsetting."

After a long moment, Quinn closed the folder in front of her and sighed.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Tamashiro is a fictionalized character based upon the real soldiers __Pvt. Barney F. Hajiro__ and __Pvt. George T. Sakato of the 442__nd__ who both earned their DSC awards for actions in the rescue operation in October, 1944. Both lived to personally receive the upgrades to the Medal of Honor in 2000._

_Tyler Varnell is a character based on the Combat Medics that worked the front lines, doing what they could to stabilize and support the wounded. _

_The Bataan Death March (1942) was a real and gruesome event in the Philippines, which was later used as propaganda by the US Government to maintain public support and anti-Japanese sentiment for the War effort. Between 60,000-80,000 Filipino and American POWs were forced to relocate by the Imperial Japanese Army; over 10,000 died before the end of the march, with thousands more dying afterwards as a result of the horrific treatment. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 10**_

_**Parallax View**_

_To the Family of the late Robert, Emmeline and Martin Nichols;_

_ Hello. You don't know me, but my name is Quinn Morgendorffer. I'm a freshman at Lawndale State University in Maryland, and a friend of Annette Nichols._

_ Given that, I'm sure you know what this letter is about. The relationships within the Nichols family I understand are private, but please know that your niece (she is still your niece by legal definition) was not one to easily volunteer such sensitive information. I am her friend, and I could clearly see her pain and wanted to help her move past it. In the course of that effort, I began to learn of its roots._

_ I have to admit that at first I was infuriated; I was convinced that your family was wrong to have treated Annie and her mother as you did and could not comprehend why. _

_ You need to know that anger had led me to continue to investigate, and my mother, a Partner in the highly regarded Law firm of Vitale, Davis, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, and Morgendorffer had agreed to assist me in a legal action against your family. Be assured that she had assessed your past legal actions, and in her opinion she would have been able to successfully file a devastating suit as a remedy. _

_ You must also know that you owe your skins to Sara Nichols, who refused to allow such an action. She is a better person than I; if the choice had been mine to make at that time I would not have been so gentle._

_ I was not willing to let this go, and so with the assistance of my older sister Daria we continued to research this. With her intellect, skill and resources, we discovered some things that may explain why Emmeline Nichols made those changes to her will; and you need to know this. I am hoping that you were not aware of this, and will reconsider your past actions._

_ There was a connection between the Varnells, your mother's family, and that of the Tamashiro family that predates the marriage of Martin and Sara. It is unclear if Martin Nichols was aware of this; Sara and Annette were not. _

_The enclosed packet of information and images are fully attributed and verified; and you will find it straightforward to vet._

_ Given this information, I want to believe that for whatever reasons your mother did not communicate the motives for her actions to you. I pray that I am not wrong, for if I am, then your actions were based on hatred and vengeance alone._

_I am not denying the historical fact of the atrocities and horrors your father faced. That is not my intent. My family has Germanic ancestry, and I refuse to be linked by ethnicity to the crimes against Humanity of the past. I am not a Nazi; likewise, Sara and Annette are not Imperial Japanese Army soldiers._

_ I myself have been guilty of not seeing the worth of a person beyond that of the superficial; that flaw is something that I continue to struggle to overcome. If you come to recognize and know the humanity that you share with Sara and Annette Nichols, then I've managed to do something worthwhile. I want to understand and validate the grace that Sara Nichols has demonstrated to me._

_Very truly yours,_

_Quinn Morgendorffer_

_Enclosures_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 11**_

_**Convergence **_

The number displayed on her phone was unfamiliar, but she had been expecting such a call.

"Quinn Morgendorffer?"

The voice too was unfamiliar, although she thought that tiny fragments of sound were distantly familiar, some shared genetic nuance creating a common curve or structure somewhere in the tissues of the larynx.

"This is Quinn speaking."

"Hello, Ms. Morgendorffer, this is Nathan Nichols." Quinn swallowed; she had expected some contact from the Nichols brother, the Attorney who had been responsible for the loss of Annie's Paternal inheritance.

She wasn't sure what to expect in the way of a response to her letter. Still, she could sense no overt hostility or positioning in his tone.

"I don't think I need to ask what this call is regarding."

"Well, I was wondering if you might make some time to meet with me? I'm in Oakdale right now, and I could drive to Lawndale at your convenience."

"Mr. Nichols, as you yourself are an Attorney, I'd like my legal consul to follow any discussion we may have. I'll need to check on her availability."

"Yes, of course, but this won't be a hostile meeting, at least from my side. I'd like to meet with you, along with Annie and of course her mother Sara."

"Mr. Nichols, is Annie there?"

"She's right here. Would you like to speak to her?"

"Yes, please."

A moment later, Annie came on the line. "Quinn, were you still planning on a study session tonight? Could we do it here? I'm not sure what's exactly happening, but it doesn't feel like anything bad is going to come down. Mr. Nichols has been talking to Mom, mostly, and they're being very polite to each other. I don't want to leave her at home by herself tonight."

"Of course. Let me see if I can get my Mom to teleconference in; I'll call her and come on over."

* * *

Quinn parked on the street just in front of Annie's house. She pulled out her overnight bag and backpack as Helen's SUV pulled up behind her.

_Her mother was taller than Daria, but that walk and the way they hold themselves…loaded for bear. Helen Morgendorffer carried her discretely elegant briefcase like a lethal weapon, which it often proved to be._

"Mom, thank you for taking off from work so early," Quinn smiled nervously at her mother.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, Quinn," Helen smiled. "Nobody messes with my daughter or anyone that matters to her."

Sara set two more cups of coffee on the kitchen table, which had been cleared and was now covered with documents and photographs. Several old photo albums that Quinn recognized, were open, yellow post-it tags visible on the edges.

"Quinn," Sara said softly, "Your letter has made many people reopen things we had thought were settled. We are learning new things."

Nathan Nichols held out his hand.

"Ms. Morgendorffer, I have to admit that the first reaction I had when I read your letter was anger. This was something that we had worked hard to put behind us. I didn't know who you were, and I was upset to learn that you were wanting us to look at things in the past that we had tried so hard to put to rest."

"But when I thought about what you were saying, it made me question again why Mother had made those changes to the will. We had thought that she was losing her facilities; she had become somewhat agitated and before she began to meet with her estate attorney. She had been increasingly despondent, naturally, since Father, and then her brother, Uncle Tyler, passed. Moreover, she seemed prone to extended periods of silent meditation, and never once openly questioned the will that she and Father had prepared before his death."

"Her handwriting had deteriorated to the point that it was extremely difficult to read; I admit that we didn't try as hard as we might have to go over her papers and correspondence after her death. Out of frustration, most of her letters were boxed up to be included in the family archives."

"So, after reviewing the materials you had included, I pulled out those letters again. I could see that prior to his death, Mother and Uncle Tyler had exchanged several letters. Unlike hers, we could read Uncle Tyler's handwriting, in essence confirming what you and your sister had uncovered. There were several faded photos from World War II in them, rather small; they were contact prints made from a folding camera's negatives. Most were apparently pictures of his buddies, a few of the countryside, a few rather grisly ones, mostly of German casualties, or fellow 141st soldiers being treated for serious injury. These were described, for the most part, and the few prints that were included in the letters were in pretty bad shape. That photograph you included in your email, though, made me take out a magnifying glass. One of the small photos in Uncle Tyler's letter was this one. I must warn you that it's rather graphic, but it was what made us realize that things were more complex than we had thought."

Nichols handed Quinn a small, wrinkled black and white photograph. It showed a tall, lanky medic tending to a tourniquet that had been applied to the left leg of soldier in a litter; the leg a mass of blackened flesh, pale shards of what could only be bone protruding. Much of the soldier's uniform was cut away, and what remained was dark with blood; and another solder was holding a glass plasma bottle high as the soldier in the litter was about to be transferred to a table. A hideous looking saw was waiting in a metal tray, along with other small surgical instruments.

"That's Tyler Varnell, minding the tourniquet," Nichols said quietly. "One of his friends must have taken the photo. Look on the back."

Quinn flipped it over.

_PFC S. Tamashiro saved our lives, I'll be damned if we're gonna let him die without a fight._

"Annie's grandfather, 19 years old," Quinn said aloud. _Trying to prove that despite the way he and his buddies looked, they were American boys fighting for their country. The same country that took their families and dumped them in a prison because they had the faces of the enemy, even though they listened to Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey, even though the young Seiyei Tamashiro had been one hell of a baseball player. _

_ And here he was, almost dead; a teenaged Tyler Varnell holding back tears of fury as he watched the exhausted surgeon try to decide how much of the leg might survive and how much would surely go gangrenous, cutting flesh into flaps to be pulled over the sawed off stumps of bone, tying off blood vessels, stitching artery to vein, staunching the flow of blood, cauterizing, praying that the units of blood and plasma allocated were enough. The intensity of his expression spoke across the chasm of time: Live, damn you, I need to thank you for saving my life._

Quinn began to feel sick, remembering all the times she had felt put upon about not having the right shoes. She handed the photo back, her fingers trembling.

Nichols handed Quinn another, this one remarkably similar to the one Daria had found on the Military database. This one was not as sharp, obviously taken by an amateur standing alongside the photojournalist_. _A note had been written in pencil across the back of the photograph:_ Seiyei Tamashiro and Tyler Varnell, American Soldiers._

"This part of our family history was lost to us until now. Our father had been severely traumatized by his experiences as a POW in the Philippines, and there were countless times that we would hear him in the grip of nightmares. Mother was always careful to avoid any mention of the war and I believe that silence carried over even after his death."

Helen stood and walked up behind her now silent daughter, placing her hand softly on Quinn's shoulder.

Nathan Nichols addressed Sara and Annie. "On behalf of my brothers and myself, I'd like to say that we deeply regret the way that we've treated you both over the years." Turning to Quinn, he nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Morgendorffer."

_**A/N: Catherina asked about the date of 1944 that I used as the year Emmeline and Robert Nichols married. She is correct; almost all the prisoners were rescued in 1945, but a very small number had escaped, either during the march itself or after arrival at Camp O'Donnell. The first public release of information in the US was in January 27, 1944, based on sworn statements from escapees. They had been processed before the release of information, and most likely there were an indeterminate number of days from the time of escape to reaching safety. Based on this, I theorized that it would have been possible for some escapees/survivors to be medically discharged in 1944.**_

_**No disrespect is intended in these dates; for the purpose of the story it was important to have a disconnect between Emmeline and her brother Tyler around the time of his return to the US. In this case, Emmeline would have served in some voluntary fashion that led her to meet Robert Nichols. A relationship with an escapee/survivor would certainly involve having to deal with horrendous psychological as well as physical trauma; this would create a rational for the incomplete understanding of what had happened to Tyler Varnell, including the identity of the AJA soldier he saw as a rescuer.**_

_**-M1**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 12**_

_**Something Like a Hug**_

"Hey, Quinn," came the voice over the VOIP connection.

"Hi, Sis," smiled the young woman as she pushed her chair away from her desk, taking a break from her homework. "I was going to call after I finished my homework, but thanks for the break. What's up?"

"Could you send me Annie's email address? I'd like to send her a note."

"You must have gotten her little package. Do you like it?"

"How could I not appreciate a Shaeffer 57 fountain pen? Must have been your suggestion. She spent way too much."

"Don't feel too bad, Daria. You were a huge part in getting her inheritance from her Paternal Grandmother restored, as well as the beginning of a relationship with her father's family. I think that was more important to her."

"Yeah, I got that from the way her note was folded."

"I thought you would. The first step in making an origami crane."

"Which is a symbol for peace. I put it into a little frame." Daria went on. "Trent and Jane were also impressed by you. Or, I guess I should say even _more _impressed."

Quinn found herself blushing.

"Um, you guys are coming for Christmas, right?"

"Yeah, mom sent Jane and I plane tickets to Lawndale, the day after the break starts. Trent's boss is giving him a ticket on the late flight to the regional airport on Christmas Eve."

"That's good, you can share the driving on the way back to Boston."

"Quinn, are you really okay with Mom giving us her car?"

"Hey, I already have a car that I bought with my own money," she said proudly. "Besides, Mom and Dad said that they would pay for my tuition if I wanted to transfer to a better school. You saved them a ton of money with your scholarships. Besides, she _sold_ you guys the car."

"For a dollar."

"You guys are staying for New Years, right? Annie's mom is insisting on hosting everybody for a traditional New Year's meal, which includes you all."

"Sure. Mom says she's a great cook."

"She taught me how to make a killer teriyaki chicken, even though Annie says that's a real _gringo_ Japanese dish," Quinn laughed.

"Better than frozen lasagna or _Kitchen Sink Stew_, I'd say."

There was a pause, and then Daria pressed on.

"I also wanted to tell you how proud I am that you're my sister, Quinn."

It took awhile for Quinn to find her voice.

"Thank you, Daria."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Sisters and Friends**_

_**Chapter 13**_

_**A Little Life Lesson**_

"I was talking to my mom last night about this stuff. I hadn't realized how much I never understood when I was a kid."Annie looked up from her laptop. "I guess they never told me some of these things because they figured I was too young to know this, and maybe because they wanted to keep it in the past."

"It's kind of odd to me that your Grandfather never talked much about what he had done in the war. I mean, he should have been proud of it."

"That's what we were talking about last night. You know, he used to keep his medals in a dresser drawer. Mom said that it was such a bad time he didn't like talking about it; those medals only reminded him of terrible things.

"She asked him about it when she was younger, and the gist of it was that he felt that she didn't need the details. He would tell her that he and his generation did what they felt they had to do so that their families and children would have better lives…_Kodomo No Tame Ni,_ for the sake of the children."

"So your mom and the generations that followed would be seen as Americans, not different."

"Yeah, that was the idea; we're still working on that. But other things happened that I kind of knew about but never understood. Like my Grandfather had a cousin who shot himself a few years after the war. He was part of the 552nd Artillery Battalion. They were among the first of the Allied forces to liberate the Nazi Death Camps. What he saw…kind of broke him. He never married and kept to himself after that. A few years later, he was dead."

"Why is it that some people come to a fatal despair while others can go on after such trauma?"

Annie smiled at the sight of her friend flat out on the floor with a book tented over her face. "I guess those people are able to achieve a kind of equilibrium; they relearn to look around and still see the good and beauty all around them."

She saved her file and closed her laptop. "I know you're tired of me saying thanks, but I have to say this. I had begun to stop believing in humanity, and then you showed up."

* * *

_What's with Annie?_ Something was different, judging from the way she was sitting on the ground, head down and hunched slightly over.

Quinn dropped her backpack near the bench in front of the Art and Design building and walked over to her friend. "Something wrong?" she asked, worried.

Annie shook her head, and looked up at Quinn with a smile. Opening her arms slightly, she revealed a very small kitten that was asleep against the fuzzy sweater she was wearing. It looked like it was too young to be out and about on its own.

"I was waiting to see if her mother would come for her, but so far nothing. There's usually at least one stray cat around here looking for handouts, but facilities may have rounded them up. This little one might be on her own."

Quinn smiled. "I don't know about that; she's pretty cute and it looks like she's found a sucker."

"Damn. I'd love to have her, but my mom won't be happy if I bring her home; she's kind of allergic to cats."

Quinn leaned in, smiling at the way the little gray and white kitten was kneading Annie's sweater as she slept. "I'm afraid to ask. What are you going to do with her?"

"I'm not sure. I was thinking that I could check with the Sorority houses and see if I could get them to take her, but I should check to make sure she's weaned first."

"You mean if she's ready for solid food?"

"Yeah. If she's not, she'll need to be fed a kitten milk substitute."

"Like from a bottle?"

"That's cute but not really necessary; you can teach them to take it from a shallow bowl. You can add dry kitten food to it a little at a time, and reduce the liquid slowly."

Annie gently stroked the tips of the kitten's ears. She sat with her for a long time. "She's just a baby now, and in twenty years she'll be just a memory. Whoever takes her will fall in love with her, watch her grow up and grow old. Remember how beautiful she is today, Quinn."

* * *

"Ladies?" Helen knocked on the doorframe of the bedroom.

"Mhhhggh." Quinn stirred, yawning. "Hi Mom, sorry, we must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"About nine. Both of you were asleep, so I didn't want to wake you when I came home. There's some pizza downstairs, but I was wondering if you aren't missing something."

"Ooops…"Quinn looked around. Annie was on her side on the bathroom rug that had been laid out in the middle of the room. A cardboard box, some old towels and a small dish were arrayed in front of Annie, along with her now dormant laptop. She rolled over and opened her eyes.

"Uh oh," mumbled Annie.

"You have to see this," Helen smiled.

She led them down the stairs, motioning them to be quiet as they approached the living room.

Jake was laying on the floor, laughing as the kitten climbed all over him.

"You may have to fight it out with Jake for the cat, Annie," Helen smiled. "I've been thinking that a pet would be good for him. It's supposed to lower your blood pressure, and he's always wanted a cat." _Daria's gone, and Quinn's not going to be around forever. It'll do him good to have a little one to take care of._

Annie smiled broadly. "I claim visitation rights."


End file.
